


Through a Mirror, Darcy

by auntieomega



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Play, Break Up, Dildos, F/F, Femslash, Hela feels, Light Bondage, Loki is a good father, Nipple Licking, Oral Sex, Protective Bruce Banner, Strap-Ons, Sweet, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-29 00:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5110649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntieomega/pseuds/auntieomega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy and Hela seem to have a great relationship...until Hela wants to leave.</p><p>*Set in the same universe as my "A Marvelish Romance" series.  It has some overlap with "Loki Makes a Difference," but should stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through a Mirror, Darcy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pushbuttonkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushbuttonkitty/gifts).



> One of my favorite people asked me for a Hela/Darcy fic, so I wrote one. I pulled some stuff from the mythology and mixed it with Marvel thingies and made up the rest.

Darcy woke to the sounds of Hela moving things around the bedroom. The goddess always woke first. Usually, however, she slithered back into bed, freshly showered and a bit slippery, to press wet lips to Darcy’s warm breast or sex, initiating a daily ritual that had almost made Darcy a morning person.

A cold kiss landed on her forehead. “Gotta go, pussycat.” Hela, dressed in a sleek little black dress, sat on the edge of the bed as she pulled on her strappy lime green heels.

That didn’t seem right. Darcy was still in nothing but pink panties and a faded black tee shirt. She sat up, pushing her mussed hair off her face. “Where?”

“To Hel.”

“Can I come?”

Hela stood and scrutinized herself in the mirror, turning to check every angle. “Are you dead?”

“No.”

She tied a green ribbon around her long black ponytail. “Then no.”

As Darcy watched, Hela slipped some folded garments into her trunk. With the wave of a finger, the trunk became a black hound wearing a green collar attached to a green leash. Hela gave the dog a command in what Darcy assumed to be Old Norse, and the dog stood beside its mistress.

In the weeks they had been together, this had never happened before. From the moment they had met at Loki and Bruce’s wedding, they had been inseparable. Hela was like no one Darcy had met before, and Hela, for her part, seemed to honestly enjoy Darcy’s company. “When are you coming back?”

Hela lifted a foot to check her spiked heel. “I don’t know. Never?”

Darcy scrambled over the bed toward her. “Are you joking?”

Hela raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m not my father. I don’t joke.” She pursed her dark lips. “Except occasionally. When I do.” She tapped her watchless wrist. “Tick tock, love. Must be leaving.”

“Wait!” Darcy wanted to grab Hela’s hem, but she resisted and grabbed her own knees instead. “You can’t just leave like this! I changed—like—everything for you. I changed my religion. I’m trying to learn magic. I became a lesbian. Don’t you see? You’re the Tara to my Willow. We’re meant to be together.”

“Eh?” Hela cocked her head. Before Darcy could explain, the goddess nodded. “Oh, that Buffy drivel. Right.” She gave Darcy a patient smile. “Now, darling, becoming a pagan involves a bit more than not shaving your legs for a couple of weeks, burning some incense, and buying a Starhawk book. And as for becoming a lesbian—sweetie, you were already there; you just didn’t know it yet.”

“But—”

“And Tara? Really?” Hela placed a scandalized hand over her heart. “Tara looked like a fucking garbage truck. _I_ look like a goddess.” She swept a hand over her svelte torso from tits to hips and gave a little shimmy. “Like. A. Goddess.” She headed for the door.

Darcy raced after her. “But no. No! We’re to—gether.”

“Sorry, dear. This was never permanent. I’m a goddess and you’re a Midgardian. That’s like a great white shark settling down with a meal worm. It just doesn’t happen.”

“What about Bruce and Loki?!”

She paused, one black-nailed hand on the doorknob. “Oh, yes. Say ‘hi’ to Bruce and Daddy for me.”

“We could be like them!”

Hela laughed for several minutes, then patted Darcy’s head. Then she sighed and her fingers dropped to twist a lock of Darcy’s frizzy hair. Something poignant and wistful lingered in her pale green eyes for a second. “We’ll always have East Harlem.”

Darcy felt the tears that had been threatening begin to leak, trailing down alongside her nose. “You can’t go,” she whispered.

With a grim expression, Hela stared into Darcy’s face and caressed her jaw from ear to chin. She glanced at the floor, then pulled Darcy’s chin up and crushed her lips against Darcy’s. Darcy’s heart pounded as Hela nipped her upper lip and sucked at her tongue.

Darcy thrust into Hela’s mouth. She smoothed a hand up Hela’s side, brushing the underside of her breast, then sliding down, down, down to circle one firm ass cheek. Hela dropped her purse. It hit the wooden floor with a jangle.

Hela tore Darcy’s shirt over her head and bit her throat from ear to clavicle with dull presses of teeth. Darcy gave a breathy yelp, overcome. She pushed her hands up beneath Hela’s breasts and teased the goddess’ nipples with her thumbs. Hela backed against the door with a moan and squatted slightly, granting Darcy better access.

Darcy unbuttoned enough of Hela’s dress to reveal the emerald green lace bra beneath it. The dark color contrasted beautifully with Hela’s swan-white skin. Darcy folded down one lacey cup until Hela’s nipple trembled on top of the bent fabric. Darcy slid her tongue tip around the sensitive areola, teasing Hela’s nipple with her breath. She massaged Hela’s other breast through the emerald lace.

Hela hissed a command at the hound. It turned into a trunk, but the leash remained in Hela’s hand. Darcy looked up from kissing Hela’s nipple as the leash whipped past her ear. She grinned at Hela.

The goddess smiled back as she wound the leash around Darcy’s wrists and bound her hands behind her back. She flung Darcy against the nearest wall. Darcy giggled as Hela strode toward her, shedding clothes with each step.

Hela silenced her with a kiss, and then those dark lips were trailing down her body, framed by ebon-clawed hands that licked her sides like snakes. Those hands, tipped by cold fingers and pointed nails, eased her panties down as Hela, Queen of the Underworld, knelt before her.

Darcy closed her eyes as Hela kissed her thighs and stroked her legs, fingertips whispering down her calves. Hela’s nose bumped against her pubis. Breaths, hot and dense, landed on Darcy’s most delicate skin. Just the anticipation of Hela’s mouth woke in her cunt a slick and heavy feeling of desire. Hela teased her with flirty licks, grazing her clit, but stubbornly settling on her labia or darting across to brush a kiss on her groin.

Worse, that wicked tongue began to linger a bit before abandoning her clit for other destinations. The fleeting touches of moisture turned into baroque slithers that flashed through her stomach and piqued her nipples. Yearning rolled through her with a delicious ache. Growing ever more frustrated, she whimpered and arched back against the wall, pushing her cunt toward Hela.

Darcy gave a small cry as Hela’s mouth wrapped around her clit, Death’s front teeth pressed against Darcy’s pubic bone as her tongue swathed the slip of sensitive flesh. When Hela sucked, Darcy felt as if her body would give way. Millions of champagne bubbles erupted through her. She moaned and ground against Hela’s mouth, riding it, as everything in her swirled effervescent and golden.

Her legs trembled. Hela, nursing Darcy’s clit, held her in place. Darcy came until she was breathless, until she was certain she would cease to exist if she came once more. And then she came again.

Limp as a ragdoll, she let Hela ease her to the floor. Hela held her for a moment, nuzzling her ear and kissing her head, then gently freed her hands. Darcy sighed happily and wound her arms around Hela’s neck. “Your turn,” she giggle-whispered into Hela’s ear.

Hela sat back and spread her legs invitingly. “Yes, I believe it is.”

Darcy scuttled across the floor and pulled the lid off the fuzzy purple ottoman by the couch. She looted it and pulled on her harness. “Sam or Dean?”

“We really shouldn’t have named them.”

“How about both?”

“How can I say no?”

Darcy slipped the long ‘Sam’ dildo into her strap-on’s silicone ring and lubed it up. She lubricated the shorter, stouter ‘Dean’ dildo as well and carried it back to Hela. Hela welcomed her back with a smirk. Darcy gave her a brief kiss on the lips before turning her attention to Hela’s cunt.

Darcy loved the absolute fuck out of Hela’s cunt. Darcy’s cunt was as bald as a six-year-old girl’s, but Hela’s was covered in a dense, black nest of curls. It was an ancient, epic muff of such luster that Darcy wanted to comb it and fasten barrettes to it like the dolls she played with as a little girl. Hela called it her ‘wild hare,’ and sometimes, at night, she would sing a small spell and the thing would scamper around the apartment, hiding among the boots in the closet or hopping at the edge of the bathtub, knocking over bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

Darcy bowed to it now and kissed it very softly. The goddess tasted peaty and faintly metallic. Her clit, when touched, gave off a slight charge—like holding the tip of one’s tongue to a battery.

Making Hela come was one of the singularly most spectacular things Darcy had ever experienced. Hela came like a storm overtaking a valley. She keened and arched dramatically, then wilted all at once.

Darcy brought the goddess to orgasm, then coaxed her to her hands and knees. She tongued Hela’s cunt from behind, then gently rimmed her hole. She stood and eased the strap-on dildo inside Hela, pausing to pull out slightly, then pushing a little deeper, until she bumped against something solid.

Hela gave a little ‘uff’ as the dildo hit her cervix. She shifted her hips, welcoming a deeper thrust. Still holding the second dildo, Darcy pumped Hela slowly and gently, letting the momentum build.

Darcy played with Hela’s hole as she fucked her, fingering her and teasing her with the head of the dildo she held. She picked up speed and Hela began to wail softly. Darcy pushed the ‘Dean’ dildo into Hela’s hole. Hela moaned. Darcy fucked her fast and hard, plunging deep and pounding her cervix. She shoved the dildo in Hela’s ass back and forth in time to her movements.

The strap-on’s position allowed the back of the dildo to rub against Darcy’s clit. Each hip thrust brought her close to orgasm. Then Hela was calling her name, and they came together in a shuddering flurry of electrical charges that made the lights in the apartment flicker and stopped all of the clocks.

Darcy dropped beside Hela and laughed when the Goddess of Death lifted over her and gazed on her with undisguised love. She stroked the stray hairs falling from Hela’s now rather bedraggled ponytail and wondered if that silliness about leaving had just been part of some sex game. Make up sex was great, after all, and Hela could sometimes be as mischievous as her father.

She let Hela put herself together while she tossed the toys in the dishwasher. Darcy floated around the kitchen, and set the coffee pot brewing despite feeling full of energy. “So, what do you want to do today?”

Hela dressed quickly without looking at her. “I’m leaving, Darcy.”

“What was all of that?”

Hela rose to her full height and smiled unabashedly. “That was splendid.” Her gaze softened for a heartbeat as she looked into Darcy’s eyes. Her pretention dropped like a lace handkerchief. “Here,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ll show you a small spell. Use it when you wish to summon me to this realm.”

Darcy, in shock, stood still and let Hela point her to the mirror by the door. Darcy looked at the mirror, but couldn’t resist staring at the reflection of Hela over her shoulder. Hela pulled her up straight. “Now,” Hela said, very somberly, “to work this spell, you must look into a mirror and say my name, slowly and clearly, three times.”

Darcy waited. Hela combed Darcy’s hair with her fingers. Hela didn’t say anything. Darcy grew tired of waiting. She turned around to confront Hela. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Hela’s pale eyes looked somewhat glassy. She swung about and snapped her fingers. The trunk became a hound again and bounded to her side. “Be seeing you.” She and the hound were gone in a puff of black smoke that dissipated almost immediately. All that remained of Hela in the apartment was an unmistakable scent of fresh cinnamon rolls.

***

_Months later_  
 _Thanksgiving_

Darcy sat at the feebly decorated cocktail table in Loki and Bruce’s apartment, watching Jane cut Thor’s Tofurky into little bites, and felt like crying. When Jane had said they were going to Loki and Bruce’s for Thanksgiving instead of Tony’s, she assumed it was because Bruce had the best weed. However, it turned out to be only because Tony and Bruce had some sort of argument and weren’t talking to each other or something because they had suddenly decided to behave like eighth grade girls instead of world-renowned scientists. And since Jane was Thor’s girlfriend and Thor was Loki’s brother and Loki was Bruce’s husband—sigh—they had ended up eating Tofurky on the floor.

Darcy had hoped Hela might show up, but the celebration dragged mercilessly on and there was no sign of her. And Bruce didn’t even have any weed! It was fucked.

Still, there was an abundance of wine. Loki was his usual haughty self, but Bruce seemed kind of sad and kept opening bottles and pouring freely. The depressed scientist seemed glad to have a drinking buddy and kept refilling her glass. That was the only good thing about the dinner.

After a moment of tension that she didn’t quite understand, she blurted, “I slept with Hela.” It had been much more than that, but that was what had made it out of her drunken, yam-stuffed mouth.

Loki beamed. “And she let you live to speak of it. She’s growing up, my little girl.”

Darcy downed some more wine. “Yeah, we were together for like two weeks after your wedding, but then she had to go to do some stuff. She said if I looked in a mirror and said her name three times, she would appear behind me.” She sniffled a little. “But, so far, it hasn’t worked.”

Bruce rubbed her back and leaned close. “Some Norse gods are temperamental creatures,” he whispered. “Try not to take it too hard. If it’s meant to be, she’ll return. They have to do things on their own terms. And if you love them, you’ll let them do what they want.” He sighed and took a swig of wine.

“It was the most real thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He smiled. “It’s the same with Loki. It feels like I wasn’t alive until I met him.”

“But Loki’s still with you.” She mashed a piece of yam with her fork, watching it extrude through the tines. “I keep going over every day in my head, trying to figure it out. I don’t know what I did wrong.” She hadn’t intended to tear up, but she did anyway.

He drew her into a sort of one-armed hug. “Guard your self-esteem, okay? This might have had nothing to do with you.” He sighed against her head. “And if she doesn’t come back, realize that’s good. You don’t need to be involved with someone who doesn’t value you or want the same kind of relationship you do.”

“I just want to talk to her.” As she began to cry, Bruce swept his other arm around her and drew her close. He didn’t try to impart any more wine-soaked wisdom. He just held her.

She sniffled against his shoulder. He was so sweet. She knew he was trying to help her, and she knew some of his advice seemed good, but all she wanted to do was go home, stand in front of a mirror, and call Hela’s name.

***

_Hel_

Hela heard the voice before Modhgudh, the giantess, alerted her to it. “She’s doing it again,” said the giantess, leering over the massive cauldron with a gossipy excitement.

Hela slouched over one arm of her throne. “I know.” She smiled sadly. She didn’t dare look in the cauldron’s reflective liquid. She knew what she would see—her stubborn little Midgardian’s hopeful eyes.

Modhgudh looked up from the show. “Don’t you want to see her, my queen?”

Hela patted her thigh and the nearest black hound jumped into her lap. “No.”

The giantess cocked her head with a puzzled expression. “But isn’t that why you gave her that spell? Because you wanted to see her?”

“Perhaps. I told her to use it whenever she wanted to see me. I didn’t anticipate she would use it this much.” Darcy hadn’t grasped Hela’s carefully worded instructions. The spell was not intended to bring Hela to Midgard, it was only to alert Hela to when Darcy was thinking of her. Hela had figured Darcy would misunderstand the spell’s nature, and believed the girl would only call when she missed Hela enough to summon her.

As it turned out, Darcy missed her more than she could have imagined. For months, the silly girl had called at least twice a week. A few times she had called twice in the same day. Darcy didn’t simply miss Hela, she pined for her with a devoted agony.

It was quite unexpected. Lovers always found Hela glamorous and challenging; then she would leave, and they would move on. That was the way it worked. But not with Darcy. The girl was as loyal as one of Hela’s hounds.

“There she goes again,” said Modhgudh. “Thrice in one night.”

Hela lifted the hound from her lap and kissed his head. She stood and set him back on the throne. Fanning her green cape, she strode down the steps to the cauldron. “Watch over Helheim until I return, Modhgudh.”

Hela sank her left hand into the steaming, silvery liquid. She lifted up nothing but bones. Balling the boney hand into a fist, she hissed the incantation that opened her private gate to Midgard. Black smoke wrapped around her like a shroud and pulled her away to the realm beyond.

***

_Columbia University_

“Fuck!” cried Bruce, backing into a file cabinet. Loki lifted his face from the desk with a mischievous grin as papers from the manila folders atop the file cabinet floated to the floor.

“Oh, good.” Hela unfurled her high-collared emerald cloak and perched atop the desk opposite the one her father was folded over. “I thought the two of you met here for lunch on Thursdays.” She crossed her legs with a smile. “Nice lunch.”

Loki looked around at Bruce. “You don’t have to stop.” But Bruce already had his pants up and was buckling his belt. Loki sighed.

“We didn’t expect anyone.” Bruce pulled Loki’s jeans up for him. “The door was locked.”

She covered her skeletal hand with skin as if pulling on a glove. “Doors don’t mean much to the Goddess of Death.”

Loki, covered to his Midgardian husband’s satisfaction, looked upon her with genuine admiration. “I always love seeing you clothed in your royal finery. What a magnificent sight you are.”

“And you’re as regal as ever, even in your Midgardian rags.”

Loki laughed. “What brings you here, my sweet girl?”

Hela couldn’t quite hold his gaze. “I’m having a problem with a Midgardian.”

Bruce looked up from picking papers off the floor. “Darcy Lewis?”

“Yes, that one.”

“You left without giving her closure.” Bruce stepped around the desk, one hand trailing along Loki’s back.

She had wanted Bruce’s advice as much as Loki’s, but she didn’t care for his tone. “Nice seeing you again, too, child groom.” She motioned at the door. “Why don’t you go play outside and let the grownups talk?”

He didn’t get angry; he simply stood his ground. “She doesn’t understand it’s over, Hela. This spell you’ve given her to summon you has only strengthened her delusion.”

Hela pretended to find some flaw in her perfect, pitch-black nails. “I’m sure she’ll stop calling eventually.”

“You’re hurting her.” His persistence reminded her of one of her hounds. “You need to help her move on.”

“I need?” She raised an eyebrow at her father. “I can’t remember the last time someone told Death what to do.”

“That giant maybe?” Loki snapped his fingers. “What was his name?”

Bruce wouldn’t let the conversation go. “If you’re not interested in being with Darcy, you should tell her that. She deserves your honesty.”

Hela couldn’t quite catch her careless quip, it flew through her fingers and left nothing but silence in its wake. She held Bruce’s gaze and wanted to sneer, but her face remained frozen.

Bruce nudged Loki. “Tell her it isn’t right to play with mortals like that.” When Loki only smiled at his daughter, Bruce told her, “I know it isn’t pleasant, but it’s necessary. Avoiding her is only going to make it worse.”

Loki locked an arm around his Midgardian and pulled him close. “My daughter is the Goddess of Death, sovereign of Helheim. She is no shrinking violet.” He turned a slight smirk to Hela. “You don’t want it to be over, do you?”

“No,” Hela admitted in a much smaller voice than she would have liked.

“Oh,” Bruce almost echoed, very softly. “That changes things.” He sank into the office chair beside the desk and leaned forward, elbows on knees. Loki, behind him, ruffled his hair fondly.

“Yes, it does,” Loki agreed, gazing tenderly at his husband. “It changes everything.”

“So, what do you want?” Bruce asked her.

Hela had no patience for foolish mortal games. “What do you think?”

“Alright. But you’re here talking to us instead of to Darcy. What’s preventing you from talking to her?”

Hela hesitated. Loki intervened, pulling Bruce’s head back by his hair in his excitement. “She’s afraid of rejection!”

Bruce freed himself, looking at Loki askance. “No,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t think so.” His brown eyes found Hela’s. “It’s no secret how she feels about you. She’s made it pretty obvious. Why are you avoiding her?”

Disarmed by his gentle voice, Hela answered quietly, “I don’t know.” She twiddled the edge of her cape, watching the way the light played on the iridescent fabric.

“I’m not sure about gods, but Midgardians usually avoid something because it causes pain or fear.”

She smiled at his use of ‘Midgardians.’ Her father had him well-trained.

“I would say gods are similar in that regard,” Loki said, stroking Bruce’s hair as if petting a cat. “We’re not much different than Midgardians, really. Just longer lived, more interesting, more powerful, more attractive, and in every conceivable way superior.”

Bruce bit his lips together.

“There’s nothing painful about being around Darcy.” She smiled again, but this time, it was because she thought of _her_ Midgardian. “Being with Darcy is antithetical to pain. She makes everything inside me small and quiet.” She couldn’t continue and inhaled a short, deep breath.

Bruce, elbows on knees again, hands clasped in front of him, asked in a very soft voice, “What are you afraid of?”

Hela sat back a little on the desk. “I’m afraid of nothing. I’m the Goddess of Death. I instill fear; I don’t feel it.”

As if mirroring her, Bruce sat back in his chair. “I see.” His gaze dropped to the floor. “You make others afraid.” When he looked up at her, his expression held some emotion she couldn’t quite fathom. “Because you hurt them?”

She gave an indignant snort. “Hurt? My entire kingdom is built on hurt. Those who perish in battle go to Odin, all of the rest are mine. The infants, the children, the women in childbirth, the old, the infirm. Even the ones who think they’ll go quietly never do. It’s always painful in some way or another. Hurt is what I do. It’s who I am. Everything I touch—” She stopped herself.

Bruce’s eyes were glassy. In a voice barely above a whisper, he asked, “What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t want to hurt her.” Hela’s own voice was soft as the sunlight sneaking through the tinted windows.

“You’re doing that now,” said Loki.

“I’m sparing her the worst of it.” Hela’s patience had worn thin. Consulting her silly father and his ridiculous Midgardian had been a fool’s errand. “If I love her, I should keep her safe.”

Bruce scrubbed his hands up his face and stared at her over his fingers. He seemed to be about to say something when Loki cut in. “If you love her, you’ll let her assess that risk and make that decision herself. She’s a grown woman; she doesn’t need you to decide what’s best for her.”

Before Hela could respond, Bruce caught her attention by saying her name with an almost exquisite tenderness. She blinked at him. The man fairly radiated sadness.

“He’s right. You aren’t protecting her by trying to control the situation…but I understand the urge.”

Loki hung over him and hugged his neck. He smiled at Hela. “It might not end in tears and ashes, my hellion. It could end up being the most wonderful thing in your life.”

***

Darcy jumped as Hela’s visage appeared behind her in the bathroom mirror. She spun around, hoping it was real. Hela smiled down at her. Darcy squealed and threw her arms around the goddess. Hela’s cape wrapped around them as they embraced.

“I was starting to think I’d never see you again. What happened? You didn’t get thrown into an abyss or anything, did you?”

Hela chuckled. “No.” Her eyes cut to the floor. “Maybe a metaphorical one.”

“Do you wanna eat Honeycombs? Do you wanna have sex? We could do both. They kinda go together.” Darcy felt like she was yipping around Hela like a puppy, but she couldn’t help herself. She was just so excited to see her.

Hela twisted a lock of Darcy’s hair and regarded her with a somber expression. “Before we continue this, you need to know who I truly am.”

“Uh…yeah. You’re Hela and you’re fucking awesome.”

Hela smiled thinly. “True as that may be, I am also the Goddess of Death.”

“Well, duh. And I’m Darcy Lewis of…Darcy things. Let’s get naked.”

“My world is death. My life is death.” She sighed. “What do you see when you look at me in the mirror?”

Darcy frowned at her, then looked over her shoulder at their reflection. “You’re not a vampire or anything, woman. I can see you just fine.” She turned back to her goddess with worry. “You okay?” She stroked Hela’s beautiful face. “You seem weird.”

Hela smiled at her sadly. “You can’t see me for the monster I am. But I can show you.” She wiped a hand up the left side of her face, almost as if she were pushing back her hair. “This is what I see when I look in the mirror.”

One side of Hela’s face no longer held flesh. Not just her face, but every bit of bared skin on her left side that had been visible, had been replaced by yellowed bones.

“You have this half Dia de los Muertos face?” Darcy hopped. “That’s almost as great as that muff-rabbit spell! You’re magical as fuck!”

Hela looked down at her sternly. “Scary. I’m _scary_ as fuck. You’re supposed to be frightened, pussycat. Not elated.”

“Why would I be scared of you?” Without taking her eyes off Hela’s divided face, Darcy took her skeletal hand and brushed her fingers over the bones.

“I’m dangerous. You could get hurt.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Uh, have you seen where I live? There are sirens all the time and a stabbing every week.”

“I know, this place does have great ambiance.”

“I could get killed just walking out my door. Danger’s everywhere.” Darcy pushed a little closer to Hela’s body. “But how often do you find love?”

Hela hugged her. “I can’t stay long on this world, darling. Six mortal months at most. I have a realm to tend. If we stay together—”

“Coool. What kind of things should I pack? Lightweight or like flame retardant— Should I bring heels?”

Hela pulled back, surprise showing on one half of her face. “You would go to Helheim with me? To live, for six mortal months, in my castle of tears in the land of the dead?”

Darcy shrugged. “Can’t be worse than this dump. And I lived in Oklahoma for almost a year once. I think I can handle six months in Hel easy.”

Hela swept her skin back on and grinned. “You’re a fearless little creature, aren’t you?”

***

_Later that night_

As the sirens blared through the night outside Darcy’s apartment, Hela rolled over in the Midgardian bed and stroked the girl’s sleeping face. Darcy mumbled something about cinnamon rolls. Hela buried her face in Darcy’s hair. A tear of joy slid down her cheek. For the first time in her life, she felt whole.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you find a typo that I missed. Thanks!


End file.
